Don't Tell Me Who To Love
by GracieHartley
Summary: Paul's take on imprinting. AU/No Rachel


So this is a one shot from Paul's perspective, which is also a teaser for a new story I'm going to be writing, The Only One, which I'll write after I've worked on my current story, The Unfortunate Romantics. Please, tell me what you think, I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this chapter but Jemma belong to Stephanie Meyers, I'm simply having some fun with them. No copyright infringement intended.

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I've always been stubborn. Headstrong, my father would say. I've never been good at dealing with people telling me what to do, what to think.

And I most certainly am not okay with someone or some_thing_ telling me who to love.

I'm not saying I'm an expert on love, I know I'm far from that.

My parents divorced when I was eight, and I haven't seen my mother since then. I used to think she and my dad loved each other, but obviously they didn't. Although it wasn't ideal, I consider that experience an important one. It means I know what love _isn't_.

The only truly _good_ relationships I've seen in my sixteen years of life have been the exact kind I'm determined to fight off; the relationships between members of the pack and their imprints.

Imprinting; the whole concept is stupid. Being forced to love someone- to depend on them for everything, to need them to feel whole- disgusts me.

Jared and Sam insist they're perfectly happy, but Jared didn't even know who Kim was before her imprinted and would have happily remained unacquainted with her had it not been for it. Don't even get me started on Sam. Sam was in love with someone else, Leah, before he imprinted and now has to carry around the weight of his guilt every day. I've seen what imprinting does, and I don't need it.

I don't need someone to tell me who I love, because I already know.

I've known since I walked into the classroom at age eight and saw her. She was much shorter than everyone else then, with long dark hair. It was pulled up into two buns, one on each side of her head. I remember because a boy teased her about looking like the girl from Star Wars. Jemma didn't cry or pout, instead she calmly retorted that at least she didn't look like the little green elf man.

She was my first friend; my closest friend and very nearly my girlfriend until all this bullshit happened and ripped apart my life.

I wasn't that great at letting people in, and neither was she. She was kind and sweet and trusting, more trusting that I was, but she was tough. She didn't go around telling everyone about private matters. Her parents were divorced too, her mother never to be seen again just like mine.

Our friendship was unpredictable but stronger than anything. We both had tempers and we both refused to back down when we believed in what we were saying. Generally we fought on the same side, but occasionally we'd fight with each other. We always got over it quickly, though, and we'd be back to sneaking snacks into maths class and attempting to share headphones on the bus.

I knew my feelings for her were more than friendly, it was obvious. I loved her. I loved how she'd manage to listen to music and read a book at the same time, how she'd paint her fingernails one colour but her toes all the others she'd had to choose from.

I loved her, I still do. But phasing ruined it for me. It wouldn't be fair to her for me to start something that I can't promise I'll never finish; because what happens if some girl shows up one day and I imprint on her? I can't hurt Jemma like that; I can't pretend like my impending imprint won't always be a danger to us.

I haven't spoken to her, haven't even looked at her since I phased. I don't want to have to stand there and know for certain that she's not the girl my inner-wolf considers 'the one'. I know I'm hurting her, and I wish I could stop it, but I'm selfish and cruel and I can't stand the idea of seeing how much I've fucked everything up first-hand. Jemma is strong, she doesn't _need_ me, but she's not invincible. She's undoubtedly hurting and most likely hates me. I've lost her and I don't want to confirm that. I'd rather stay in the dark, alone and ignorant.

I know what love is. I know who I love, and I know that I can't have her. So I don't need to be told.


End file.
